Page 24 of Devil's Tulip

The time for fun is over.

I need to protect myself and not rely on any man.

Satisfied that I have enough supplies to last at least two days, I zip up my bag and walk out of the kitchen as casually as possible. I’ll stick around for the rest of the day, get some much-needed rest, and restrategize. But as soon as the sun sets, I’m gone.

Back in my room, I drop the bag on my bed, dig out my money from beneath the mattress, and shove it into the bottom of the backpack. Once everything is in place, I leave the room, ready to continue my exploration before he gets back home.

There’s only one door left to check. I don’t expect it to be unlocked, but to my shock, it opens easily enough when I press my palm against it.

The room is unmistakably masculine—dark walls, a big ass bed draped in silky black sheets.Michael’s bedroom.

I hesitate for half a second.

Then I cross the threshold.

He’s not home anyway. I’ll just take a quick look around and get out before he returns.

The space is massive, but the bed dominates it, pushed against the center of the far wall like some oversized beast. That monstrosity is big enough to fit at least five full-grown men.The headboard is tall, reaching up to the ceiling with weird little hooks.What the hell are those for?

My gaze drifts to the right, and I freeze.

The entire wall beside his bed is covered with a large life-like mural—tulips in full bloom against the backdrop of a stormy night. The contrast between the delicate flowers and the dark, moody sky is breathtaking.

I walk closer to it for a better view, drawn in despite myself.

This man is such a paradox. First, the books in his library. Now, flowery murals in his bedroom? He’s like an onion, the more layers I peel back, the more I find. And it’s sick that the more I learn about him, the more curious I get.

I trace my fingertips along the painted petals.

I never understood why my parents gave me Tulipa as my middle name, and honestly, I never liked it much. But seeing the beauty of the flowers in the mural, I get it. Just a little.

I lose myself in the art longer than I should, until I force myself to snap out of it. I need to leave before I get caught snooping.

But as I turn to go my gaze snags on the nightstand drawer beside his bed.

“Just one more thing,” I murmur the excuse under my breath as I walk towards it, heart thumping in anticipation.

I drag the drawer open and?—

Oh.

Ohhell no.

My entire body goes up in flames as I take in the contents. It’s filled with different flavors of extra,extralarge condoms. My cheeks burn so hot I swear they could start a fire. But that’s not even the worst of it.

There’s a little silk gray blindfold. A set of serious-looking metal handcuffs…

My fingers tremble as I pick them up, turning them over, and—oh my God. The hooks on the headboard.They’re meant for this.

I drop the cuffs like they just electrocuted me and fan myself for a moment, desperately trying not to imagine myself shackled to that massive bed with Michael looming over me. “Jesus Christ, Gianna.”

Clearing my throat, I rummage further, because apparently, I have zero self-preservation instincts.

A pair of tiny keys—probably for the handcuffs.

A sleek black keycard—the kind you get in fancy hotels. Curiosity prickles at my skin.What does this unlock?One of the locked doors I found earlier?

“Looking for something?”

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